‘Narcos’ Recap: “The Men Of Always” Don’t Always Win

“Look, I am not a rich person. I am a poor person with money.” — Pablo Escobar

In this third episode of Netflix Original crime drama Narcos, we’re introduced to Pablo Escobar’s vengeful side as a man scorned. At this point in Steve Murphy’s retelling of slowly taking down the narcos, he’s aware that Escobar is a dangerous drug trafficker, but thanks to Colombia’s web of corruption, there’s zero proof — despite the thousands of bodies that have piled up between Bogotá and Miami. This overarching dramatic irony forces us to bond more with Escobar than our narrator, which creates a unique conflict for the show’s audience.

Episode Three, titled “The Men of Always” (a term Escobar uses to describe Colombia’s long-reigning institution of out-of-touch politicians), molds a different kind of televised anti-hero. It isn’t so easy to refer back to Tony Soprano or even fellow drug kingpin Walter White when describing Escobar as a “flawed protagonist.” It feels different to watch and empathize with a man portraying one of the most dangerous criminals in history. No doubt this is the showrunners’ aim, but as Murphy’s story unfolds, we’re forced to remind ourselves that this man is “bad” because the proof is in the history books. For the purposes of this recap, unlike the previous two, we’ll dictate where our characters stand as people trying to make a difference their respective worlds rather than to analyze who is warring with who; at this point, everything is synced in a scheme of general fucked-up-ness. To avoid getting completely swept up in the “magical realism” the series has laid out for us thus far, let’s look at it more concretely as we analyze these characters as pawns in history and how this fed into Escobar’s growing power.

Pablo Escobar as a poor man with money

As Murphy and Peña desperately try to prove Escobar is the man behind the proverbial mask of Colombia’s corruption, the drug kingpin makes a full leap into politics as the alternate leader of the New Liberal party. With the help of reporter and mistress Valeria Velez (inspired by real-life journalist Virginia Vallejo), Escobar campaigns as a man of the people: an inherently poor man who struck it rich thanks to tireless work and perseverance. Like the low class citizens of Bogotá, Escobar gets caught up in his ideologies of making Colombia a country of equal opportunity — a place where anyone of any background can rise up and succeed. Escobar’s business associates, including his cousin and right-hand-man Gustavo, think his political endeavors are nothing short of an epic mistake and urge him to leave it behind. Though winning a seat in Congress would guarantee him and his inner circle total immunity, Gustavo feels Escobar’s venture into politics will only open a can of worms for the feds and international law enforcement.

As we’ve seen in the last two episodes, Gustavo continues to be the voice of reason. Though an equally brutal figure in the eyes of the law, Gustavo is an unfaltering voice of reason in the Escobars’ life — an insider able to see the big picture. We watch Escobar greet his newborn baby girl, run for office, win as a candidate of the general public, and then fall as an accused criminal by Colombia’s Minster of Justice, Rodrigo Lara, a man who was previously bought by the Medellín Cartel but “turned honest” to prove that the people of Colombia deserve better. Sure, this was all thanks to a little push by Murphy and the DEA’s providing of Escobar’s infamous mug shot from years before, but Lara’s standing up from his country felt genuine: even if it ended up costing him his life.

Valeria Velez as a beautifully brilliant (unofficial) double agent

If we didn’t already know about Velez’s role in the eventual takedown of the Medellín Cartel, it would be easy to write her off as a self-serving whore who likes sleeping with other women’s husbands and getting fucked with pistols (yes, this really happens). But out of Escobar, Gustavo, Poison, and Colombia’s corrupt double law enforcement agents, Velez is the most brilliant of them all; had Murphy let us figure this one out on our own without the help of Wikipedia, her story may be the most shocking part of the Medellín saga.

Velez literally lets Escobar treat her however he pleases (re: tying her up and making her climax via his glock), but then turns the tables by asking him for compensation in exchange for running his campaign. Escobar tosses the ball back in her court, condescendingly asserting she must be confused because she’s obviously in this for love, and giving her a swift slap on the ass. Velez, however, proves much too smart for this kind of sexism and is clearly and covertly building a mental file. Escobar, being the slight megalomaniac he is (reiterated by Murphy metaphorical comparison to Icarus), is simply too arrogant to see otherwise.

Tata Escobar as a self-aware martyr

Though Escobar’s demure, pregnant wife Tata is getting two-timed regularly by her drug trafficking menace of a husband, she’s the series’ singular pillar of truth. Aware of her husband’s affairs (both business and extramarital), Tata is a woman bound by values, and dammit if she’ll cave and stray. She isn’t afraid to stand up for herself while also standing up for her marriage in reminding her “Pablito” that he better stop seeing “that bitch” as soon as he wins the election. Escobar, using the press as an analogy for all of the ass he could easily get as the most powerful man in Colombia, tries to soothe an emotional Tata, who is both too damn annoyed and way too pregnant for his immature nonsense. She may look like the pushover here, but it’s slowly becoming more obvious that behind this brutish, powerful figure is a wife that acted as his only saving grace who regularly keeps him in touch with his soft side: the side that appeals to the people of Colombia in the first place.

Steve Murphy as an unaware martyr

Though his intentions are solid, Murphy’s and Peña’s involvement proves to only make things more complicated for the DEA and, in the case of this totally corrupt election, ended up getting the only honest man, Rodrigo Lara, shot to death. Murphy closes the episode with the line, “It’s the only time I ever felt guilty about my job,” but his sincerity is easily overlooked because, dude, what the hell did you expect? In this ongoing fight of good versus evil and the discrepancies in between, it’s clear that the DEA has to change their tactics quickly in order to stay afloat long enough to fight the narcos on their own soil (which they control every aspect of, including all branches of law enforcement). Murphy seems to be so caught up in his own quest for justice, however, he’s missing opportunities — and in Lara’s case, even inadvertently contributing to more corruption. Though Murphy will no doubt be the wiser man in the end, right now it’s difficult to empathize with our supposed good guy, especially when he’s being so blind.